Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin

Chapter 73: Blood Debt

Crunch.

The sound of flesh and joints twisting grotesquely rang out.

“Gaaah!”

With it came a horrifying scream from the Hyesung Impersonator.

Seeing the usually serene Murong Cheonghye's demeanor change in an instant, Ma Jungcheon swallowed hard.

Her presence brimmed with murderous intent now that an evil man stood before her.

The agonizing muscle-splitting bone-displacing technique rained down relentlessly on the bald-headed man.

“As expected of the Evil-Slaying Demoness.”

Just as the rumors said—no mercy for evildoers.

Especially with that frosty, blade-like expression. It must’ve been why she once bore the epithet “Cold Flower.”

“Speak. What are the remnants of the Blood Cult plotting in Shaanxi?”

The impersonator's face turned bright red, as if about to burst from the oncoming pain.

Yet even as his entire body writhed and twisted from the muscle-splitting bone-displacing torture, he showed no sign of opening his mouth easily.

“Remnants…? Keh. Do you think we’re just mere remnants?”

Even amidst the torment, he wore a twisted smirk, provocatively glaring at Murong Cheonghye.

At this, the Vice Captain of the Demon-Slaying Unit furrowed her thin brows.

Srrrk.

As her bluish blade slipped from its sheath, Captain Jeok Unyeop rushed toward her in alarm.

“Vice Captain, have you lost your mind? Calm down. We should at least hear what he has to say.”

Jeok Unyeop’s tone carried a hint of urgency, worried she might actually take off the man’s head.

Perhaps out of courtesy toward his title, she trembled slightly and re-sheathed her blade.

“Sigh.”

Had she once lost someone dear to scum like him? Usually so rational, she always became emotional in moments like this.

“Is it revenge?”

At Murong Cheonghye’s quiet question, the impersonator chuckled.

“What else could it be?”

The Bloodbath of Mount Zheng, said to have turned an entire mountain crimson with blood.

Back then, the Nine Sects One Gang and Five Great Clans, especially led by the Celestial Sword and Thunder Sword, had nearly wiped them out to the root.

The smirk at being called “remnants” now made it clear they had rebuilt their power from the shadows once again.

“Thirty years ago, you lot sent the Thunder Sword and Celestial Sword to slaughter our Cult Leader and Young Cult Leaders. Did you really think we’d just let that blood debt (血債) go unpaid…?”

Grinding his teeth, the Blood Cult operative spoke of bloody vengeance.

If one were to hear only his words, it would seem as if the Blood Cult had been the victims of an unjust ambush, when the truth was entirely the opposite.

“You were the ones who invaded first. You were the ones who used innocent civilians as materials for blood arts. And now you speak of blood debts? That’s ludicrous.”

Eyes flaring with righteous light, Murong Cheonghye stressed where the true justice lay.

To that, the Blood Cult member curled his lips into a sinister grin.

“You mean that ‘justice’ filled with hypocrisy? You people of the Righteous Sect are always…”

Murong Cheonghye, deeming further talk meaningless, twisted the man’s arm again.

“Gghhhk!”

“Speak. What are you planning, when, and where do you intend to strike?”

With limbs writhing from the sensation of being torn apart, the Blood Cultist let out a soundless scream.

“Grkk, even if I tell you… what difference would it make?”

“If you speak, at least you’ll be given a painless end.”

Half of the human-skin mask had peeled from the bald man’s face. He snorted at her words and continued.

“That’s not… the point. Cough…”

“Then what is the point?”

“Well…”

Seeing Murong Cheonghye’s expression, the Blood Cultist straightened his neck as if suddenly willing to speak.

“Even if I say it, it’s already too late. Nothing will change. Heh.”

A sneer full of confidence in victory. Murong Cheonghye’s expression turned rigid.

“No way…”

She hurriedly turned toward the duel stage where the quarterfinals were taking place.

Could it be that their strike wasn't during the finals or semifinals where the most people gathered?

“What?”

“It’s already started?”

Captain Jeok Unyeop and Ma Jungcheon gasped alternately in disbelief.

Murong Cheonghye bit her red lips hard, realizing she was already one step behind.

No matter what her father had said, she should have stopped this immediately. It was her ambition to revive the clan and surpass the Namgung Clan that had brought it to this point.

“Just as you tried to sever our line, we shall repay you in kind. The Celestial Sword, the Thunder Sword, and their children! We’ll slaughter them all…!”

Slash!

A sword strike cleanly sliced through the Blood Cultist’s neck.

A crimson line traced across his throat before his head fell with a splash of blood.

“Evil-Slaying Demoness! How could you just decapitate him like that!”

Jeok Unyeop exclaimed in disbelief.

But her gaze remained fixed toward the duel stage.

The man had declared his intent to sever their bloodline—to return the blow in kind.

The Blood Cult’s true target was likely those who had dealt the decisive blow during the Blood Massacre.

Which meant it was highly probable they were aiming for the families of the Celestial Sword and the Thunder Sword—those who had once shone the brightest, decades ago.

"...We must hurry. They’re definitely targeting my father and younger brother!"

One stood tall upon the duel stage, while the other lay collapsed.

As the stark contrast between the two was laid bare—

“Th-The winner is Dan Mujin, young master!”

The judge waved the victory flag in my direction.

Surrounded by physicians, Murong Hui—the leading candidate to win the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament—was carried off with a face full of humiliation.

The gamblers in the stands watching this gasped and shouted in disbelief.

"...No way!"

"Rigged! That’s a setup!"

"Some mere wanderer beat the genius of the Five Great Clans?"

"And beat him like a dog? That’s absurd, damn it!"

But it had happened.

The Heaven-Slaying Star grew stronger with each fight, with every rising surge of aggression and killing intent.

In this match, I’d absorbed the essence of the Murong Clan’s sword techniques like a sponge soaking up water—I had grasped some degree of their ultimate techniques.

"Was it like this?"

The lump of qi from the Hell-Revenge Staff that was about to burst forth—I’d unconsciously taken one more step closer to enlightenment.

Maybe soon, I would be able to unleash sword qi, blade qi, and staff qi across the battlefield at will, as I’d always dreamed.

A peak-level martial artist, capable of wielding the strength of dozens of First Rate Martial Artists through a profound awakening of qi.

Such individuals were courted by clans and trading companies alike, cornerstones of Murim, the pride of the martial world.

"Boss! That was an amazing duel! Just incredible!"

Amidst the jeers of those who had lost a fortune, I could still hear a few rare voices cheering from the stands.

Just by the voice, I could tell who it was. I chuckled, leapt up, and made my way over.

There, greeting me with a wide grin, was my subordinate Ilhong.

"Hehe, I knew you were going to win, boss."

Judging by her smug look with hands on her hips, she must’ve made a winning bet.

Her delicate eyebrows twitched nonstop, unable to contain her joy.

"Truly, thank you, Young Master Dan…!"

Beside her stood the long-unseen Chairman Jo, gripping a betting slip with visible delight—clearly he had wagered on me too.

It seemed he and Ilhong were among the rare few who’d backed the underdog and won. I hadn’t thought he had it in him, but it seemed Chairman Jo had a good eye for people.

His children nearby also looked at me, the man who had toppled Murong Hui, with eyes clearly changed.

"Where are the others?"

Not seeing Jo Harang or Tang Yeo-hye, I turned to Ilhong and asked where they’d gone.

That man Ma Jungcheon had probably followed Murong Cheonghye to curry favor with the unofficial successor anyway.

"They’re up next, so they probably went to prepare for the match?"

Now that she mentioned it, I did recall seeing their names in the bracket.

Two top candidates meeting in the quarterfinals.

"Who are you betting on this time, boss?"

"Good question."

They were neck and neck, but the girl with a star on her forehead had the edge, perhaps.

With a shrug, I dropped into the seat beside Ilhong.

My body was heavy with fatigue after the duel soaked in killing intent.

"Phew, finally, I can get some rest… Hm?"

Just as I let my guard down, I sensed a threatening killing intent nearby.

With the crowd packed so tight, I couldn’t pinpoint it, but—

I definitely felt a dangerous aura radiating from the spectator area not far off.

There were so many people that I couldn’t identify the exact spot, but if I focused, I could feel the crimson shade of it—it was that kind of murderous intent.

"What the hell is this?"

Ignoring my fatigue, I activated the Heaven-Slaying Eye and scanned the arena.

And there they were—lumps of blood-red killing intent, lurking like cancerous cells throughout the area.

Especially around where the orthodox martial artists had gathered and near the VIP section, individuals dressed like commoners were lying in wait.

"Boss, what’s wrong?"

Seeing my grave expression, Ilhong asked, puzzled.

And then, as if on cue, those suspicious individuals began to rise simultaneously.

Each one held a small iron sphere, with a burning fuse sticking out.

Just seeing it, I knew at once—those were dangerous objects.

I scanned around in a hurry, and there—my eyes locked with the source of that original killing intent.

He looked ready to hurl a fist-sized object this way.

"You son of a—Get down!"

I shouted and lunged at Ilhong.

Kwakwang—!

***

Explosions thundered through the area like strikes of lightning.

The Dragon-Phoenix Tournament’s duel grounds were instantly turned into a scene of chaos, shrouded in thick clouds of dust.

Screams and shouts mixed as people scrambled in all directions.

As people either rushed to flee or desperately searched for their families, the area devolved into utter confusion.

In the chaos, I quickly checked the condition of what I’d held in my arms earlier.

"Boss, your hands are a bit pervy."

She seemed to be fine. To be cracking a joke like that while feigning calm in a moment like this.

"You're not hurt anywhere?"

"No, of course not. You shielded me, boss."

She was pretending to be composed, but must’ve been quite shaken. She stuttered her words while nestled tightly in my arms.

"This is a Thunderburst Bomb, right?"

As someone from the modern era, I could recognize the weapon right away, but I asked Ilhong to cross-verify just in case.

"Technically, it's a Small Thunderburst Bomb. The blast isn’t that strong, but it’s perfect for turning the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament into a bloodbath."

Exactly as she said.

Right after the explosion, members of the Blood Cult began attacking the confused orthodox martial artists, swords drawn.

The clashing of weapons and ferocious screams echoed from all directions.

"Chivalrous Unit! Slaughter every last one of the Blood Cult remnants!"

"Uooooh!"

Perhaps warned beforehand by the Demon-Slaying Unit, martial artists affiliated with the Murim Alliance began to counterattack as well.

Sword qi and wind flashed everywhere, transforming the area into a battlefield.

I helped Ilhong to her feet.

Chairman Jo, who’d bolted the moment I deflected the bomb with a stone earlier, was nowhere to be seen.

"That’s him! The orthodox bastard who beat the Lesser Thunder Sword!"

"Kill him and sever the lineage!"

And as I stood up, four blood-red freaks charged at me.

The hue was from their bloodthirst, but also perhaps from the unique evil arts they were using, as their bodies were drenched in blood.

Pop! Pop!

Ilhong drew hidden weapons from her sleeves and fired with both hands.

A flurry of sharp Bi Chim pierced the oncoming Blood Cult members. Screaming, they fell with their bodies riddled like pincushions.

"When did you start using two of those?"

I asked, seeing her stance like she was wielding twin pistols.

"Just like you said, boss—better safe than sorry."

A fast learner, this one. Tang Yeo-hye would probably throw a fit if she saw this.

Clink.

Watching Ilhong reload the Bi Chim and powder into the slots, I casually slung the Dog-Beating Staff over my shoulder.

What lay before us was sheer pandemonium.

"What now, boss?"

"Who knows."

Logic told me not to risk my life over someone else’s vendetta and just turn tail and run, but the energy of the Starfall Heart Cultivation Method inside me whispered to help those still savable.

‘Kill!’

Oh, and of course, that guy was whispering too, though I had no intention of listening to him.

"Righteous deeds… gotta stack them up, right?"

More than anything, I had placed a hefty bet on winning this Dragon-Phoenix Tournament.

If it were to be ruined now, so would my high-odds wager.

"That just won’t do, boss."

"Exactly, right?"

Ilhong, who had also bet big on my victory, nodded in agreement.

That meant there was only one decision left for us.

Time to add some real combat to my recent enlightenment.

"Let’s beat the crap out of these red bastards."

With that, I poured my internal energy into the Dog-Beating Staff and launched off the ground.